The Trouble With Flu
by JillSwinburne
Summary: Chrestomanci ponders his life while suffering from the flu


Author's Note: this fic takes place directly after Chrestomanci's return from Theare at the end of Mixed Magics

Chrestomanci reappeared at the castle in the green domed hall at the centre of the pentagram on the floor. The green light which bathed this area during the day had been replaced by the yellow glow of the gas lamps and the dome itself was dark. Passing a languid hand over his perfect dark hair as was his custom after such journeys he gave a deep sigh. It must be passed midnight and everyone was in bed. They probably hadn't even noticed he was missing. Carefully he untied the piece of thin blue cloth he had been using for a belt on his short trip to visit the gods of Theare. He was quite certain that they would remember that visit for a long time, especially as he rather thought he had given them all flu as well as a dressing down.

He suddenly realised that it was cold in the hall and having wrapped his exquisite if slightly scorched, he was irritated to notice, dressing gown around himself more tightly he headed for the stairs and bed. He got as far as the stairs. Within a few steps his head began to reel and his knees felt like badly made jelly. He slumped down on the lowest step and sniffed rather plaintively before searching his pockets for the handkerchief he had been using earlier. He couldn't find it, wonderful, no doubt he had left in Theare with gods in their Heaven which had been far too cold if you asked him and had probably made his flu worse.

Chrestomanci remembered that when he was little he had caught a bad dose of the flu and one of his many nannies, he could not remember which as they all moulded into one after a while, had told him that the worst thing for the flu was letting sweat dry cold on you. For this reason she had wrapped him up and built up the fire in the nursery to keep him as warm as possible with the outcome that anyone who went into the room suddenly found that they had a temperature as high as his. As he sat on the cool marble stairs and thought about it he realised he had probably not done himself any favours by going from the oppressive heat of a burning building into the freezing air of heaven in only his pyjamas. He let his head loll forward onto his chest and rubbed his face vigorously. He felt terrible but he wouldn't get any better if he didn't get back to bed right away. He reached up and took a firm grasp of the banister, pulling himself to his feet, all too quickly apparently because his head swam worse than before and he was forced to sit down heavily once more. Clutching his head he thought of several interesting curse words he had heard over the years which would be appropriate to this moment but years of government work, life under Gabriel de Witt and fatherhood meant that all he actually said was, "Drat!"

As he sat there, head in his hands, dressing gown bunched around him, a truly pathetic figure he heard a noise coming down the corridor above him. Footsteps and the rustle of a trailing dress. The steps stopped at the top of the stairs and after a moments pause began to descend.

"I've been in Theare," he told the advancing feet, "sorting things out with that little boy, Jasper, Joseph… something like that. Anyway I think I may have given their gods the flu which serves them right I suppose but even so I daresay they won't be very pleased when they all start coughing and sniffing over their ceremonial vestments." Here he paused and looked up into the face of the person standing over him. It was Millie, of course it was Millie, she had a sixth sense for knowing when something was wrong with him. She was dressed in her nightgown with a red shawl over her shoulders and her hair was pulled back from her round face with a few wisps falling down and catching the light of the lamps. Chrestomanci thought she looked very pretty looking down at him with a gentle smile. "What do you think?" he asked her trying to smile but all he could manage was a lopsided grimace.

"I think you look terrible," she replied matter-of-factly, "like you've been in the silver store in Stallery Mansion again." At this he did manage a decent smile.

"That's how I feel." he told her. She put out a hand and helped him to his feet taking his weight onto herself.

"If I had my way they'd take that summoning charm off you when you're ill." she muttered.

"And if I had my way they'd never put it back," he replied, "it is most disconcerting to be called away in the middle of a conversation and have to work out exactly which world you are in as half the time you're dealing with people thoroughly ignorant of the fact that there is more than one." By this time they had reached the top of the stairs and Millie was now propelling him along the corridor to the bedroom with a certain well practiced, gentle force.

"Oh Christopher do stop complaining you know you love it really and you only complain to get attention. As though you didn't get enough as it is!" Her tone was scolding and he knew she meant what she said but her determined smile told him it was all in good fun. That was one of the things he loved about Millie, she was the only person left in the castle who could make him feel as though he was still a pompous attention seeking teenager. He did not enjoy scolding his own children nor Cat and Janet simply because he never felt that they had done enough to be properly scolded. When he was younger he and his guardian Gabriel de Witt, the former Chrestomanci had disagreed about everything and had had some fairly serious rows. Christopher was always getting into things which did not, in Gabriel's opinion, concern him or going off to do things his way rather than wait for Gabriel's orders. Back then insolence earned him a clip around the ear and an extra hour's magical theory homework not to mention half portions at supper and a very cold shoulder from all the castle employees. It was even better when Millie was upset with him because while Gabriel and the others would forgive him after a day of fairly good behaviour it would take him at least a week to find some way to win Millie back as she was just as stubborn as he was sometimes. He remembered floating red apples before her in the rose garden where she had been reading a book. She had laughed and snatched them out of the air, grinning at him across the pathway, but that had been for a very minor offence only. There had been one time when after exhausting all his best gifts and actions to make her forgive him he had resorted to letting one of the younger children remaining at the castle over the summer to practice her magic on him which had resulted in his hair turning blue his fingernails purple and mushrooms growing out of his ears. Millie had been most impressed but it had taken three more days of exotic experimentation for her to forgive him entirely.

And now here they were years later, married with two children of their own and another two for whom they were responsible. When he thought about it like that Christopher supposed they must have both changed a great deal. He was not so argumentative, except that he was it was just that Gabriel was no longer around for him to argue with. He was certainly just as vague as a man as he had been as a child and his manners had not changed much either. He also still retained a strong streak of vanity which he had inherited from his mother and which everyone in the house, even his own children but especially Millie were apt to tease him about. And what about Millie herself, had she changed so much? Perhaps those who had known her as a child would have said that she had lost a certain amount of her fire but that was just a front really. Millie appeared meek and mild mannered; a loving mother and an adoring wife but others had not heard the tempest she had raised over Gwendolyn when Cat and his demonic elder sister had first come to stay at Chrestomanci castle. Her private rages had astounded even Christopher who had found himself subdued by comparison. However Millie had developed her own talent for hiding her true feelings and similar to Christopher's somewhat blank vague look she had developed a kind of cheery and understanding face which meant that her mind could wander during boring conversations without causing too much suspicion.

As they reached the bedroom door Millie flicked a free hand slightly and it blew open as if in a slight breeze. She helped her husband inside and took away his dressing gown and slippers before leaving him to lean against the wall while she turned down the bed and plumped up the pillows.

"I'll just heat the bed a little. Your poor feet are frozen." She murmured stroking the bed covers lightly with her hand. "Right," she said when she was done, "get in." and she helped him down into the warm bed gently and tucked the covers up under his chin. She placed the back of her hand against his forehead and felt his temperature. He was hot and a little wet as well. He closed his eyes for a moment and she stroked his cheek lovingly.

"Poor boy," she said softly. His own hand reached out from beneath the cover and took hold of hers. He kissed her palm.

"You're an angel," he whispered.

"No, I'm a goddess," she replied with a slight giggle.

"Of course, how could I forget. I am your humble slave madam. What would you have me do?"

"Go to sleep," she told him firmly. The she leant forward and kissed his hot forehead before standing up. She turned down the gas in the lamp and moved to the door.

"Where are you going?" he called thickly through his blocked sinuses.

"To the playroom. The children aren't over their own flu properly and I want to be nearby just in case."

"Won't you stay here, just for tonight.?"

"No, I'll let you rest in peace for now." She turned once more but he stopped her again.

"Please Millie. Darling."

She stood in the doorway and looked back at him. He was leaning up on his elbows in bed, the light from the corridor showed his pale face with the dark circles which had gathered beneath his dark eyes, less bright than usual. He looked very sick and also very sad. He didn't call her "darling" very often, usually only when he wanted something or he was being sarcastic. He often called her that in front of the children too, to make them squirm; they being at the age where kissing was a disgusting act and to see ones parents engaged in it was doubly cringeworthy. However, just occasionally, like those rare moments in the night when he would kiss her cheek and murmur that he loved her he would call her "darling" and he would mean it. And although she knew that he was really only employing the term tonight so that she would stay and pity him there was enough of that special tone in his voice to make her relent. After all, she told herself, the children were nearly all better now and she'd been sleeping in the play room "just in case" for nearly a fortnight now and had never been called upon in the middle of the night. She knew that really it had only been for her own peace of mind and it had helped that Christopher had been away in London on government business for most of that time. He had come home just the day before to find that he was coming down with a flu bug he must have caught before he left.

She shrugged and moved back to the bed, closing the door behind her. She was not worried about catching the flu herself. Flu, unlike measles is susceptible to magic. Magic could not help cure you much quicker or get rid of the bug once you had caught it but it could prevent you catching it in the first place as long as you performed the proper charms at the first signs of an outbreak. Millie had done this and therefore had no fear of slipping into bed beside her husband in his present condition. She felt his cold feet which were beginning to warm up at the bottom of the bed and let him wrap his long slim arms about her. She gently laid her head on his shoulder and felt him rest his own head against hers.

"Michael came down with it this evening so you're likely to have a quiet few days if you don't get summoned anywhere."

"And if I do I doubt I will be of any great assistance."

"Nonsense," she chided softly, "it just means that you'll have to be a little less flamboyant for a while and people are going to have to get used to seeing you in your pyjamas." Millie could not help laughing lightly and this and Christopher managed a faint chuckle, he was nearly asleep.

"What would I do without you Millie?" he murmured. Millie squinted up at her husband with his handsome face and glossy black hair.

"I have no idea," she whispered in reply, "but I do know that Gabriel would not approve." They both chuckled again at that and Christopher kissed the top of her head lightly.

"I love you," he said.

"I know," she replied. "Now go to sleep."

They both slept. Peace and quiet rolled in darkness over the towers of Chrestomanci Castle and out onto the land beyond. In the halls of Heaven above the world of Theare someone sneezed.

"Bloody Chrestomanci." sniffed Great Zond as he searched groggily for a tissue.


End file.
